The next day, at daybreak, Auguste sent for an upholsterer. "What idea have you got in your head now, monsieur?" queried Bertrand. "I mean to sell our furniture, turn everything we own into cash, and then leave Paris and seek in some other land a means of turning to account such talents as I have. You will go with me, won't you, Bertrand?" "Anywhere, monsieur, anywhere you choose. But why this sudden decision? Couldn't you do it without leaving Paris?" "No, my friend; in this city, where I have lived the life of a man of wealth, it would be hard for me, I know, to turn my trifling talents to account. Forgive this last exhibition of weakness." "Before we resort to this step, is there no longer any hope of your finding employment?" "Hope is the very thing that is using up what little means I have left. Besides, here in Paris I am not able to resist my taste for dissipation. Perhaps I shall be wiser in some other country. So we must make our preparations to start. If this experiment isn't successful at all events it's proper to make it." "But, lieutenant----" "No objections, Bertrand. Your conduct suggested mine, and my mind is made up. We leave Paris to-morrow." Bertrand saw that it was indeed useless for him to try to combat his master's plan; he realized too that it was the only course that remained for them to take, for he could not long support his master with the twenty sous that he earned by tailoring. So that he set about making preparations for departure. Auguste, who liked to carry out his plans promptly when he had determined upon them, effected a sale of his furniture during the day, and the proceeds, added to what cash he had left, made about six thousand francs. "I should like to know," he said to Bertrand, "if, with this amount of money, we can't go to the ends of the world in search of fortune?" "It is certain, lieutenant, that there are a great many people who began with much less." When everything was ready, Auguste, who proposed to go first to Italy, engaged seats in the Lyon diligence. Bertrand went to say good-bye to Schtrack. "Farewell, old fellow," he said; "we're going round the world; if I come back, I'll have another drink with you." "Sacretié! Good-bye, Monsieur Pertrand." XX POOR DENISE Auguste and Bertrand had been gone several hours, and Schtrack was standing in the doorway trying to catch another glimpse of them, when a young village maiden, carrying a large bag of money in one hand, rushed into the courtyard and asked for Monsieur Dalville. "Monsieur Dalville?" repeated Schtrack, taking his pipe from his mouth; "he isn't here any more, mamzelle." "Not here! What do you mean, monsieur? This is certainly where he lived. I came here once before. You remember the time, don't you--when you wouldn't let me go upstairs?" "Ah, ja! You had a little poy mit you then."